


It's Not Over Until It's Too Late

by KilltheDJ, Lemonayde



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Desolation Row, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilltheDJ/pseuds/KilltheDJ, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonayde/pseuds/Lemonayde
Summary: In a world where creativity is outlawed, Party thinks he's got it all figured out- He's a wanted and known graffiti artist by night, and a big brother to Mikey Way during the day. It's two separate lives- until, suddenly, it isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

Party always felt he was at his best when his hands were stained red and the strong scent of paint was in the air.

He wished he could have the stench of paint filling his nose all day, the red in his hair instead of his hands, but defacing government property with bright neon spray paint isn't that bad an alternative, he must admit.

Pulling down the bandana that covered what his mask couldn't reach of his face, Party backed up to inspect the finished product he had been working on for the past few hours, careful not to slip as he balanced on the edge of the rooftop.

It wasn't as intricate as he normally would have done - if his works of art were going to end up the limelight of the city, he may as well make them look nice - but it would do.

He’d had a burst of inspiration that night, and with a grin, he found it paid off. The graffiti took up well over half the wall (and two cans of red paint); two hearts, one lower than the other, and both anatomically correct, were blood red with blackened veins going through them - the veins provided the place where the stitches went, loosely connecting the two like a couple stuck together only their housing. Both were dripping neon green blood like acid. It was so getting removed later, but he was proud of it.

Turning away from his piece so he could start to work his way down the building, Party hummed softly to himself- a crime in itself. Creativity always seems to wind itself throughout all of it forms- breaking the rules against one likely means you'll break another, be it in tiny or huge ways.

After climbing most of the way down, Party let himself fall and land onto the alleyway street with a thud that sent a rather unwelcome but familiar jolt through his bones. With a simple glance at his watch, he found that he had some time to kill -his brother's shift gave him at least two more hours out on the streets. If he was careful- not that it mattered, he knew these backstreets and rooftops like the back of his hand- he could probably so some browsing. New works were always fun to scout out, and if he had heard the rumors correctly, there was a new kid in town.

What kind of leader would he be if he didn't greet the newest of recruits?

He wasn’t like the kids who could lead thousands into rebellion with his voice, or the kids who could silently turn the system around on itself. But he could be an artist - a graffiti artist -, so he led that way. He was the one who drew some doodle in blood red and a hastily scrawled ‘welcome to the madhouse!’ next to new pieces, signed with monikers he didn’t know.

There’d been a few rumors about new graffiti on the Upper East Side - the more shady, poor area -, so that’s where he went. Party was a bit hesitant - the Upper East Side had a reputation, and he didn’t spend much time there. It was where the music scene thrived, or so he heard; more music, more patrols.

It was still late at night (or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it), but thankfully he heard no sirens, no sounds of engines purring that meant cops. He kept his head down as he walked through the streets, avoiding the people but glancing in the alleys he passed.

He was always able to tell what the ‘new pieces’ were. They were usually out of the way, made by less confident hands with no desire to be in the spotlight just yet. Many chose their ‘color’, their signature mark, with the first painting.

The piece he was looking for wasn’t in the shadows. It wasn’t sloppy. And it had its own color, and a name he recognized.

On the side of the old theatre building - it used to be for the best plays, but after the New Laws were passed it was condemned and became a hot spot for concerts -, in bold, bright yellow, were lyrics. The lyrics themselves were framed and outlined in black, with red dripping down like wounds from the tops of the letters, with white clouds overlapping and underneath them.

The words themselves read ‘WANNA TRY, WANNA TRY, WANNA TRY, I’LL BE YOUR DETONATOR!’. They made no sense on their own, but they made Party stop and stare, take a step back and figure out what the Hell was going on.

Party figured that was the point when he saw the bright yellow moniker underneath it. Party Poison was his moniker. It was a character he’d made up when he was a kid. And so was the name Kobra Kid.

The lyrics were his, too, the whispered words to himself when his brother was at work, written hastily in his notebooks, sometimes next to things he didn’t remember writing. The combination was too big a coincidence for Party to brush it off as nothing, if a little disconcerted.

It left him with only one option: he knew the new graffiti artist. The new graffiti artist was, well, his brother, Mikey. His little brother.

The very same Mikey he had been trying to keep out of this life for the better part of their young adult lives.

Party tried to shake it off and not think of how strange it was, put an expression somewhere between a smirk and a smile - his little brother, wow -, and took his own can of blood red paint out of the satchel by his side.

He shook it well, hearing the familiar rattling sound he adored oh so much, and added the ever-classic ‘welcome to the madhouse!’ next to Kobra Kid’s name. Above the lyrics, hastily scrawled, he wrote ‘EVERYBODY WANTS TO CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT NO ONE WANTS TO DIE’, if only to complete the verse.

Backing up in order to inspect the completed product, Party couldn't help but feel his expression fall a bit. It looked good. Really good, actually- that's why he couldn't help but feel lost.

Mikey fit into this- he fit in really well, in fact, not that that was too surprising in itself. 

He had grown up beside Gerard after all, listening with wide eyes to every story Gerard would whisper, long after their bedtime had come and gone. He was the one who would beg Gerard to draw the characters he loved so much, the one who inspired Gerard to even do this in the first place…

And that's exactly why he couldn't be here. Why Gerard had stopped sharing, why he started shushing Mikey whenever he would ask what happened to the time they spent together in their own imaginary world; why Gerard had hidden this life from him for as long as he could.

It was dangerous, to fit in here. It was dangerous to be known. The spotlight may be Gerard's favorite place to be when he donned his mask and took up his life as Party, but it was the last place he ever wanted Mikey to be.

The last place he would let him be.

Shaking the can of paint wildly beside him, Party stepped up to the words that had been so delicately laid out in front of him. Words so familiar, so personal- he didn't even flinch as he sprayed right across them, covering them in that damn bloody red that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

It was a little too much for him to see his lyrics. To see something that was oh-so-obviously his brother’s work. His brother, who - as he checked his watch - should be coming home from work now. Except if he worked at night then he would’ve had to paint in the mornings, the daylight hours. The most dangerous time of day.

Even Mikey wasn’t stupid enough to do that...right? 

He shoved the can of spray paint back into his satchel, still dripping red and probably ruining the material. His heart pounded in his chest as he slung it over his shoulder, leaving the alleyway with determination in his eyes and a small frown on his lips.

Mikey better have a good fucking excuse for this.


	2. Chapter 2

Mikey was waiting for him when he got back, sitting on the couch...reading a book. A book. Another thing that was, quite frankly, not allowed. Illegal. Though Gerard supposed that should be the least of his worries right now.

"What the fuck, Mikey?"

Gerard dropped the satchel beside him, glaring at his brother as he walked further in and threw both his mask and bandana to the side and onto the table.

Mikey raised a brow as he looked up at him, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips as he folded the page he was on and set the book down on his lap. "Well that was a rather surprising greeting. No 'how was your day at work' or 'hello'? Rude."

"Don't play dumb." Gerard snapped, causing Mikey to shut his mouth in surprise. It wasn't often that he got this sort of tone with him, but Gerard was past the thought of protecting his little brother from sharp words. "Kobra Kid, huh? Couldn't think of something a little bit more inconspicuous? Jesus, Mikey, if you had been caught-"

His voice was raising a few octaves as he spoke, and he quickly quieted himself by pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, looking off in the distance as he tried to calm himself down. Even without looking at him, Gerard could feel the heat in the air as Mikey began to speak.

"A bit hypocritical comin' the great and mighty Party Poison." He sneered, though his voice remained hushed as usual. Gerard's eyes snapped back towards him with venomous intent as he opened his mouth to scold him, but Mikey wouldn't let him get the chance. "All this time? All this time and you didn't even fucking tell me?

"What was I supposed to do? Walk up to you one might and just go, 'hey, you know that graffiti artist wanted by the government? Yeah that's me. Surprise!'" Gerard whisper-yelled, his paint stained hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

"Better than just keeping it a secret!" Mikey exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation before moving over to grab the mask that was lying discarded on the table. He let it dangle from his fingers as he spoke, hand motions causing it to nearly fall. Gerard held back the instinct to jump forward and snatch it back from him, instead choosing to glare as he continued. "Fucking graffiti, Gerard? Really? Out of all the scenes to choose, you choose the most dangerous one out of the list?"

"What the hell do you know about the scenes, Mikey? I can make decisions for myself- You're the one I'm trying to protect!" 

"Yeah, well, pretty lousy job you've been doin' of that, huh? So busy keepin' your own secrets that you don't even realise your brother's helpin' run one!" Mikey let the mask fall back onto the table by tossing it to the side, going back to sit down on the couch and collapse with his head buried in his hands, shaky breaths showing he was obviously on the verge of tears.

Gerard blinked, taking a step back as he furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of what Mikey had just said. Helping run one? He couldn't possibly… "You don't mean that you…?" 

"That I've been in a scene myself this whole time? Long enough to have gotten a higher up position in one? Grade A detective work, Gerard. You figured it out. I haven't exactly been subtle."

Gerard didn’t know whether he wanted to sit on the couch and cry with Mikey, yell at him some more, or maybe just try to wrap his head around the entire situation. He’d been so scared - fear that manifested itself as anger with Mikey’s blatant writing it off fueling it - and intent on telling Mikey how dangerous it was, how the government had eyes everyone and that was the stupidest thing Mikey had ever - could ever - do.

And suddenly Mikey was the one telling him he was doing a lousy job of being a brother - which Gerard had already started to expect on his brisk walk home -, telling him that maybe the entire reason they’d been distant to each other was because, oh, the wall of secrets, a brick added to the mix with every lie on Gerard’s part, and mortar added from Mikey’s. When did Mikey even find the time to be in a scene? Which scene was it? He worked the night shift, didn’t he? No one was stupid enough to rebel in broad daylight. Even Mikey… Unless… No. He wasn’t going to even think about that.

Though he ought to think of something to say, since as of now all he was doing was stupidly gaping at his Mikey as a million questions flooded is brain, a million words fought to be strung together and scream, and yet nothing came out.

Mikey's sniffle dragged him out of that stupor, the whole world springing into motion again once more as Gerard hurried over to him, swallowing hard past the lump forming in his throat. He didn't sit on the couch beside him- he didn't feel he was allowed to share that sort of comfort with him right now- but he did kneel to be more at his sitting height, hesitantly reaching out to move his hands away and meet his watery gaze. It had been so long since Gerard had seen him cry.

It was a sight he never wanted to see again.

"Mikey, what do you mean?" He asked, all anger in his voice draining out into instead the soft spoken words of a big brother who wanted nothing more than to comfort his sibling, a tone he hadn't used in years- Three years, to be exact, but that was a memory to sort through on another day.

"I'm sorry." Mikey said instead of answering his question, averting his eyes as he tried to wipe his tears away, only for them to be quickly replaced by more. "I should have told you sooner. It's just, I thought I had known how you felt about the scenes, and I…" He trailed off again, shaking his head as he let out a laugh half-choked by tears. "God, I was an idiot, wasn't I? You weren't much more subtle than me."

Gerard forced his own sad laugh at that, shifting so he was properly sitting on the couch with him now. He bumped Mikey's shoulder with his own lightly, ignoring the fact that his own tears had begun to slip down his cheeks. "Hey, if you're an idiot, I don't even want to think of what that'd make me."

"Definitely more of an idiot than me. Leaving your paint cans under the bed, Gerard? Really?" The slightest hint of a smile found Mikey's face as he looked over at him, and Gerard let out a genuine laugh this time.

"Alright, admittedly not my best hiding place. I hadn't expected you to be snooping around my room!"

Mikey raised a brow, leaning back as the stiffness from the nerves of the argument melted away. "And if we had been subject to a random search?"

Gerard paused, screwing up his face a little in thought. He hadn't really considered that, but instead of admitting it, he merely shrugged. "That would've been future Gerard's problem."  
Mikey rolled his eyes, taking his glasses off and wiping them with his shirt to get rid of the smudges his hands had made. "What the hell would you do without me?"

Gerard pretended to take a moment to think, tapping his chin. "Probably be a lot less annoyed."

Mikey punched him playfully on the shoulder as Gerard dissolved into a fit of giggles that Mikey eventually joined in on as well. Once the moment past, they lapsed into a comfortable silence- one that they hadn't truly had in a long, long time. One that they both truly missed.

After a few moments of revelling in the quiet, Mikey spoke up, voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know why I was so afraid to tell you."

Gerard looked over at Mikey, lips forming a tight line as his mind rushed through a million possible responses. Eventually, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his greasy hair as he spoke. "Because you were scared that I would be angry, or try to stop you from going? Or because you were worried I was going to endanger myself to protect you from ending up behind bars? A mixture of the two, even."

Mikey looked over at him, his surprise at Gerard's dead-on guess quickly veiled by a somber expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly why...Was that what you…?"

Gerard half-shrugged, looking away from Mikey to stare at the mask lying on the table. There had been many reasons he hadn't told Mikey- those things being a major components though, of course. Truth is, keeping it secret had just seemed like the easiest way out. Gerard had never been one to seek out conflict- inevitably it usually came to him, but he never looked for it- and making the choice to avoid emotional bullshit after all that had happened in the last few years was a no-brainer for him.

Almost as though he had been reading his thoughts, Mikey nudged his shoulder, offering him a sad smile. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, though. I shouldn't have been such an asshole about letting you know I knew."

"Honestly, it's probably best it happened this way- I think...I think this was a conversation that had been a long time coming." Gerard sighed again, rubbing at his eyes as the exhaustion of the day finally hit him, the adrenaline from the painting and the fight finally wearing off. "I should probably get some sleep; I have an early day tomorrow."

Mikey nodded as he stood up, stretching as his bones popped quietly. Gerard made a face, but managed to bite back the teasing comment about how lanky and brittle he was. 

Mikey opened his mouth hesitantly, looking over to Gerard before closing it again, as though hes reconsidered it. Gerard doesn't pry- they've shared enough for the night already. He settles on something else to say anyway.

"I'm hiding your shit though, since you obviously can't be trusted to find someplace safe." Gerard grinned at the bit of snark that had returned, raising both his palms to admit defeat.

"Alright, alright. Just make sure you let me know where they end up." He says with a chuckle, and Mikey gives a curt nod before walking off into the direction of his bedroom- just past Gerard's. He pauses at the door, looking back at him with a classic half-smile. "Goodnight, Gerard."

"Goodnight, Mikey."

And with that, his brother disappeared behind closed doors, leaving him alone to drift off in his room, feeling much more content than he had been in a long time.


End file.
